Pinkie's World: Elmo vs. Pinkie Pie
Pinkie's World: Elmo vs Pinkie Pie
Author's Note
A/N: In spite of the fact that the two characters involved in this story are from what are largely considered children's shows, this story is not for young children--hence the "M" rating. This story is violent, and reader discretion is strongly advised. Also, I would like to say, the outcome of this match was determined by popular vote, not my opinion, so please understand that this story did not necessarily end as I thought it would if I were writing it based solely on my opinion. With those things in mind, I hope you enjoy the death battle: Elmo vs. Pinkie Pie!
Pinkie's World: Elmo vs Pinkie Pie
Pinkie's World
Elmo looked into the camera and prepared to announce the upcoming show to the kids watching at home…a routine he had repeated a million times.
“Hi! This is Elmo’s World! Elmo is sooo happy to see you!”
Elmo walked over to his pet goldfish, “And so is Dorothy…say hello Dorothy!”
The goldfish, of course, said nothing.
“Guess what Elmo is thinking about today? Ta-duh-dah-DAH!”
There was a knock at his door, as usual. Elmo looked at the camera, laughed, and then walked over to answer the door, prepared for whatever walked, crawled, flew, or otherwise fell on him.
“Horses!” Elmo said as he opened the door, “That’s right! Hor-“
Elmo stared in shock at what he saw in front of him: it wasn’t a horse at all! Instead, he found himself staring down at a pink box with a big, red bow and a gift tag on top that with the words “For Elmo” written on it.
He picked it up and brought it inside his world of imagination. Curious, he looked at the camera and said, “Elmo wonders what’s inside.”
He reached down and untied the bow. In a burst of colorful confetti, something brilliant pink jumped out of the box.
“WHO’S READY TO PARTAY?!” The creature shouted.
After taking a few moments to get over his initial shock, Elmo realized that the creature standing in front of him was a small, pink horse.
The pink horse gasped, inhaling so deeply that Elmo was surprised that the curtain didn’t come off of the window, “Am I really in Elmo’s World? Ohmyohmyohmyohmy! I am so nerviscited! I’ve been waiting FOREVER to come here! Ever since I heard about it five minutes ago! Twilight said it couldn’t be done, ‘It’s only a myth!’ she said, ‘You can’t go into something that doesn’t exist’ she said! Well, I’m sososososo glad she was wrong! I just found a book on those jelly-wision thingies the humans used to have, built one, aaaaaand here I am! Speaking of jelly, I could really go for a hay and jelly sandwich, but which jelly should I use for my sandwich? Blueberry? Grape? Apple? Kumquat? Decisions, decisions…”
As the pink horse rambled on about jellied fruits, Elmo found himself at a loss for words. The horse had boundless energy, and a knack for talking…a lot. She would not shut up! All this incessant rambling was giving Elmo a headache. Besides, this was HIS show, and she was completely driving it into the ground. He had to get her to shut up!
Aware of the children watching at home, Elmo gathered himself, laughed his signature laugh and said, “Um…excuse Elmo, but are you a horse? Elmo has been thinking about horses recently, and he would love to ask you some ques-“
“*GAAAAAASP* Are you Elmo?! My name’s Pinkie Pie, and I’m really, super-duper, uber excited to meet you! I’ve heard you’re the best EVER when it comes to laughing! Especially, when you’re tickled! Weeeell, my element IS laughter after all! Sooo, if you don’t mind…”
Before Elmo could react, Pinkie Pie pounced on top of him, tickling him mercilessly with her hooves.
“Hahahaha! N-No! Hahahaha! S-stop! Bwa-hahahahahaha! E-Elmo said s-(hee-hee)-stop! STOP NOW!!” Elmo shouted in sheer, unadulterated rage.
The small monster’s sudden outburst startled Pinkie, causing her to stop and take a couple of steps back.
“Cut to commercial,” Elmo said to the man operating the camera.
“But, this is public television, we don’t show any comer-“
Elmo glared at the cameraman, burrowing into the depths of his soul with his frenzied eyes.
“Elmo said, Cut. To. COMMERCIAL!”
The cameraman quickly obliged, playing some old footage of Elmo asking children about how they throw a ball.
“Now, leave.”
The cameraman didn’t have to be asked twice, he got out of the room as quickly as his legs could carry him.
“You, pink horse. Either get out of Elmo’s World, or Elmo will cut off your hooves and feed them to Cookie Monster…he’ll eat anything these days…”
Pinkie was stunned. She stared in horror at the feral monster that stood in front of her. He wasn’t at all like the innocent creature with the kind laugh that Twilight had told her about.
“Wh-what did I do?” Pinkie asked, trembling from head to toe.
“Wh-what did I doooo?” the red creature mocked, “You came on Elmo’s show, talked FOREVER about jelly, stealing Elmo’s spotlight, and then…worst of all you tickled Elmo…Elmo HATES being tickled!”
“B-but you laughed…”
“Just because Elmo laughed, doesn’t mean Elmo enjoyed it!”
“You didn’t enj-“
“NO!”
“I-I’m sorry…”
The red monster, still seething with rage, snapped his fingers. His loyal lackeys, the ever silent Mr. Noodle and his brother Mr. Noodle joined him on either side.
“If you don’t get out of here by the count of three, Elmo will have Mr. Noodle and Mr. Noodle’s brother Mr. Noodle drag your corpse out by its ears… One.”
Pinkie began to panic, “But I don’t know how to get home! I’m not really sure how I even managed to figure out how to get here in the first place!”
“Two.”
“Please, don’t—“
“Three.”
Pinkie winced and closed her eyes, braced for an attack.
Elmo laughed, “Very good boys and girls! Let’s do that one more time! One.”
Pinkie couldn’t believe her ears…Elmo was starting over! His eyes were glazed over, and he seemed disengaged, like he was doing it out of sheer force of habit.
“Two.”
This was her chance to gain the upper-hoof!
Pinkie ran a few steps before launching herself in the air at one of the Mr. Noodle on Elmo’s left, her hoof landing on the bottom of his ribcage. She cringed as she felt the bones in his chest give way, and her ears were greeted with a resounding *Pop!*
Mr. Noodle buckled to his knees, his face twisted into a silent scream of anguish before doubling over and coughing up blood.
Enraged, the second Mr. Noodle rushed Pinkie, tackling her to the ground. He wrapped his hands around the pony’s small pink throat and began squeezing it with all his might. Pinkie wrestled desperately to get out of the man’s grasp, but her efforts were met with him ramming her head repeatedly on the ground. Pinkie’s vision blurred as she felt herself slowly losing consciousness.
After mere seconds, the pony’s struggling ceased, and she lay still, eyes unfocused. Mr. Noodle, not convinced she was dead, leaned down and put his ear next to her mouth to listen for any sign of life. Instead of being greeted by the sound of her breathing, Mr. Noodle felt the pony’s mouth fasten itself around the top of his ear, and before he could react, her teeth clamped down, piercing through the cartilage, and then she twisted her head sharply to the right, ripping his left ear in two.
Mr. Noodle sat up sharply, releasing the vice-grip he had around Pinkie’s throat, and cupping the jagged remnants of his wounded ear with both hands. The man began rocking back and forth, his face contorted into a look of sheer pain, blood dribbling between his fingers.
Pinkie Pie, taking advantage of her newfound freedom, rammed her front-right hoof into Mr. Noodle’s gut causing him to double over, then with every ounce of her dwindling strength she slammed her other hoof into the man’s good ear, sending him flying across the room and slamming him into the wall.
With Mr. Noodle now off of her, Pinkie turned over, spat the piece of severed ear she had in her mouth onto the floor, and began retching and gasping, the taste of the man’s blood wafting down her throat with each desperate breath.
Elmo scowled. The incompetent louts had managed to get themselves knocked out by a little pony! It seemed that Elmo would have to take care of matters himself. He ran over to his drawer and tried to open it, to no avail. The sentient piece of furniture was stubborn, often refusing to open when he needed the things he kept inside.
“Come ON you stupid piece of lumber! Elmo needs you to open!”
The drawer turned away from him, toward the wall.
“Elmo doesn’t have time to deal with this right now!”
The drawer refused to budge.
Elmo glared, “Fine.”
The small, red monster walked behind the drawer, squatted down, and grabbed both of its back legs, and heaved, lifting the drawer up off of the floor. Startled, the drawer began to desperately struggle to get free from Elmo’s grip, but his grip held true.
“Stop struggling!” Elmo shouted at the drawer as he lifted it above his head, and smashed the drawer on the ground with all of his might.
The drawer cracked, but did not break. It writhed in pain, and weakly, with all its remaining strength, it struggled in vain to get away from the red demon who once claimed to be its friend.
“Once…more!” Elmo said, slowly lifting the weakened drawer above his head before sending it careening to the floor.
This time, the drawer shattered. It shivered with one final wave of pain, and then lay still, never to move again. The crazed monster looked on the remains of the shattered drawer with satisfaction: he knew he had it in him! Realizing that he didn’t have time to enjoy this feat of strength, he started rummaging through the pieces of the drawer to find what he was looking for: a knife he used to cook in an episode on food. He just had to find it!
Most of the fog in Pinkie’s mind had cleared, allowing her to think clearly, and while the pain in her throat had lessened, it was by no means gone. Each breath felt like a thousand tiny needles puncturing through her already throbbing throat. She was sure her neck was deeply bruised in the shape of the cruel man’s hands, and she could feel the lumps forming on the back of her head where he had violently rammed her head into the ground. She was lucky to be alive. Pinkie recognized that she had gotten a second chance to live, and she did not intend to waste it. Looking up through bloodshot eyes, Pinkie scanned the room for the small monster. Seeing him rummaging through a pile of some kind of material, she realized that this was her chance to take him out and then make her escape. She pushed herself up on legs which felt like lead, and then cautiously started making her way over to where Elmo was kneeling, rummaging through the debris in front of him.
As she approached him from behind, she heard his crazed mutterings about a knife…something about it not being there. She raised her front-right hoof, and sent a downward punch aimed at the small creature’s head.
*CLACK!*
Pinkie’s hoof connected not with Elmo’s head as she had intended, but rather a leg from a piece of furniture in Elmo’s hand. Elmo had managed to grab the leg, spin around, and block Pinkie’s blow! How fast was he? Or was Pinkie just starting to slow down from her injuries?
Elmo pushed back Pinkie’s hoof and quickly swung the leg at her gut, connecting, and sending her flying across the room. Pinkie landed on her hooves, sliding several feet before launching herself back at the monster. Elmo brought the furniture leg up in both hands just in time to block Pinkie’s attack. However, it was not strong enough to take the full force of Pinkie’s kick, which snapped the furniture leg and went straight through, connecting with Elmo’s head and driving him straight into the ground. Roaring with pain and rage, Elmo dropped the stick fragment in his right hand, grabbed Pinkie’s leg, and stabbed the fragmented end of the stick in his left hand as deep into the flesh of the pony’s leg as possible. Pinkie screamed as the monster twisted the stick fragment before yanking it out.
Blood spurted from Pinkie’s injured leg as she used the other to kick Elmo’s hand until he released his grip on her leg. She then launched herself backward, off of Elmo’s head, into a backward summersault. She winced as pain shot up her still bleeding leg when she landed. She was already getting lightheaded from the loss of blood: it was likely that Elmo had hit an artery. Lucky shot. If Pinkie wanted to win, she would have to finish this battle… soon.
The small, red monster, with a shattered nose, and covered with a mixed cocktail of both his blood and Pinkie’s, slowly got up and sought the discarded fragment of his drawer’s leg. Just as he retrieved it, he felt a blow connect with the side of his head. He staggered, and reoriented himself, managing to bring up his arm in time to block the pony’s second blow with the stick he held in his hand. He turned to face the pony, and saw that she was now standing on her back hooves, a sizeable pool of blood forming underneath her maimed back leg. Elmo smiled wickedly: he could win this!
Even though she had landed several blows on Elmo, Pinkie’s head was becoming more and more muddled, and her body was becoming increasingly heavy. She was losing this fight. She would never see Ponyville again. She would never see her friends again…her friends. They would be devastated by her death. They would…cry…because of her… The thought of it enraged Pinkie, and sent adrenaline coursing through her veins, giving strength to her wearied limbs, and clarity to her mind unlike any she had ever experienced in her life.
“They won’t cry because of me!” Pinkie screamed at the top of her lungs, “THEY. WILL. NOT. CRY!!!”
Pinkie launched herself at Elmo and attacked with such ferocity, he could hardly keep up. Blow for blow, Elmo was barely managing to block Pinkie’s frenzied attacks. However, he was quickly losing ground. Soon, one of her attacks would land. He couldn’t understand: her attacks seemed to be getting stronger, not weaker. How was this possible? Elmo then made the mistake of looking into the pony’s face. Her hair had lost its natural spring, having gone flat: as straight as an ironing board. But her face was where the most significant change had occurred: it was crazed beyond the point of reason, and frothing with a homicidal rage unlike Elmo had ever seen. This horror unnerved him long enough for Pinkie to knock both sticks out of his hand, shattering the bones in his left hand, and then ram her right hoof into the monsters ribcage, sending him flying into Dorothy’s stand. Elmo arched his back in pain. He looked up, saw Dorothy’s bowl tilting and starting to fall. Miraculously, it fell right side up on Elmo’s gut, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Elmo winced in pain, and wrapped his arms around the offending object. Dorothy was alive, although she was swimming frantically around and around. When Elmo tried to move, he was greeted with pain shooting through his chest, back, and broken hand. His world spun. Elmo couldn’t move.
Pinkie slowly made her way over to Elmo, picking up one of the sticks in her mouth Elmo had dropped on the way. It was time to end this. One swift stab through the eye, and he would be finished. Then Pinkie could go home to her friends.
As she approached, Pinkie looked upon the pitiful creature who had tried so desperately to kill her… he was so…small and sad. He couldn’t have always been this cruel, could he? He was known for bringing joy and laughter to children, just like she was known for bringing laughter in Ponyville. She shouldn’t kill him…maybe she should let him live… No. She had to end this while she had the chance. Otherwise, when he recovered, he would just come after her. After all, she didn’t know how long she would be in this world until she found a way back to Equestria. She had to end it. Now.
She lifted the wooden stick into the air.
“Goodbye, Dorothy,” Elmo whispered to the fish he had in the bowl cradled in his lap.
Pinkie froze… Elmo had friends too. If she killed him, she would take him away from them, even those who depended on him to keep them alive, like Dorothy. It didn’t matter what Elmo would have done to her if he had the chance…she couldn’t kill him. She was not like him.
Pinkie dropped the stick to the floor.
“I won’t kill you Elmo,” Pinkie said to the monster, “Consider this a second chance on life. This time, take better care of it, so that those who love you won’t lose you.”
She then smiled at the goldfish, “Take care of him, Dorothy. I think that you are his best chance at learning the power of friendship.”
Pinkie turned around, and as she started to take her first step out of the door, she felt a sharp pain in the right side of her head, bringing her world to sudden, complete darkness.
“I won’t kill you Elmo…”
Elmo was stunned at what he was hearing: Pinkie was letting him live. Why?
“This time, take better care of it…”
What? The pink pony was telling HIM how to live? How dare she! So that was her plan: to mock him while he was down. How…sick!
“Take care of him Dorothy…”
Was she implying that he needed a fish to take care of him? How dare she?! He would not stand for this insult! He’d show her how much he needed a stupid fish!
As the pink pony turned around, Elmo grabbed Dorothy’s bowl with his good hand, and with all of his might he slammed it against the side of Pinkie’s head. The bowl shattered, pieces of the glass lodging themselves into the side of Pinkie’s head, and sending Dorothy careening to the floor. Elmo then dragged himself on top of Pinkie’s unconscious body, and with a shard of glass from the bowl still in his hand, Elmo stabbed her, again and again, drops of blood flying into the air and landing in his fur with every sequential swing. Then, Elmo turned Pinkie over and looked at her in the face. She appeared to be dead. Then, he remembered the sudden burst of strength, and the crazed look in her eyes. Out of sheer, unadulterated fear, he repeatedly stabbed her soft underbelly until it resembled ground beef, and blood along with tiny bits of her organs were matted in his fur.
Elmo collapsed, his injured back leaning up against Dorothy’s stand, and caught his breath. He looked to his right, and saw Dorothy had stopped struggling, and lay dead on the floor. Elmo had done it. He won.
“Dexter…get in here,” Elmo said, looking at the door.
The cameraman opened the door cautiously, his eyes widening in horror at the scene in front of him. He turned around and vomited, sickened by the grisly scene.
“Don’t just stand there, get to the camera…Elmo has an episode to film,” the red monster said.
“But sir, this mess…you’re covered in…”
“ELMO SAID…FILM!!”
Terrified, Dexter ran over to the camera, nearly slipping in a pool of blood, and turned it on the mangled, blood-soaked monster.
“Hi! This is Elmo’s World! Elmo is sooo happy to see you!” Elmo said, looking into the camera.
“And so,” Elmo said, picking up the clearly dead fish by the tail, “is Dorothy…say hello Dorothy!”
The goldfish, of course, said nothing.
“Guess what Elmo is thinking about today? Ta-duh-dah-DAH!”
Elmo picked up a handful of the meat that was once Pinkie’s organs and began spreading it on the shards of glass on the floor, attempting to piece them together.
“Glue!” Elmo said as he continued to spread the gunk on the shards, “That’s right…Glue!”
End.